The Hunger Games: Entropy (A Clato Fanfiction: NTI Series, Book 2)

Chapter 38

CLOVE'S POV

I don’t know what to think right now.

Besides Cato, everyone else on the train seemed to think that we were fine. They seemed to shrug off an attempted assault or possibly murder as a regular occurrence to disregard in the long run. In the Hunger Games, you either kill or be killed, no questions asked. Hesitant tributes die immediately. It happens every year and it’s only going to happen again.

Even if I left the Hunger Games all in one piece, I don’t know whether or not to believe that the arena has made its way into the lives of everyday people—further diminishing the amount of order in Panem.

It still hurts me to see my district partner losing his mind, even if he ruined one of my appearances. We still have to cover the rest of the nation.

Regardless of everything, he still ruined our first appearance for me. I’m not taking the blame for his irresponsibility.

Not knowing what else to do, I sigh and stare blankly at the ceiling, quickly losing myself to boredom. I don’t even feel like making an emotional mess of myself and losing my mind to agonizing apprehension. It just feels so pointless.

***********

I still haven’t found the strength to leave the room.

As I look out the window, I begin to notice the sun setting over the horizon.

This whole thing is beginning to feel routine—dealing with post-Games events, learning the ropes behind them, being warned not to screw up, messing up, worrying, and starting all over again; wondering what might happen if we actually get in trouble. Despite too many mistakes in the past, none of us have seen any punishment—except from our mentors.

It’s quite depressing: being a victor and not having enough spirit or drive to take advantage of all the luxuries this lifestyle has to offer. It probably doesn’t get that much better until after the first year.

Something from the hallway knocks on the door. “Clove?” A woman asks from outside. That’s definitely my mentor. At least she had the courtesy to knock this time.    

I force myself off the bed with imaginary strings as if I were a marionette and head towards the door, unlocking it and sliding it open to greet Enobaria, who stares at me with her usual tight and rigid face.

“Thank you for knocking,” I grunt, still trying my best to show my appreciation for her proper conduct.

“I came here for a reason,” she bluntly explains, getting straight to the point.

“Ok, shoot.”                                      

She pauses for a moment before giving me the details. “Don’t listen to them,” she admonishes.

“I don’t get it,” I bluntly respond. What’s she talking about?

“Cleo and Brutus told you to forget about what happened earlier,” she continues, maintaining the austerity in her tone and her face. “Don’t listen to them.”

“What’s up?” I ask her, wondering where she’s going. Just great. Now she’s making me suspect something.

“They’re wrong,” she adds, deeping her voice. “They’ll try to tell you that you can just throw your caution to the wind and be alright, but you can’t afford to do it.”

“How do I know you’re not trying to sabotage me?” I check, making sure that she’s not pulling any monkey business behind my back.

“Do you think I liked going on the Tour?” she barks, placing emphasis on herself.